


Show You How Bad I Can Be

by islandgirl_246



Series: Just You and Me [16]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anger, Angst, BAMF Erica, BAMF Stiles, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Guilt, Imprisonment, M/M, Shame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-26
Updated: 2017-09-26
Packaged: 2019-01-05 13:56:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,391
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12191250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/islandgirl_246/pseuds/islandgirl_246
Summary: “Can I talk to you?” Stiles was direct.His dad placed a restraining hand on his arm.“Hello, John, Stiles. Sorry to be meeting again under these circumstances.” Max returned.“You fucking piece of shit. If I . . .”“Dad!” Stiles chastened. “Let me handle this please.” He turned to look at his father. “You’re still a sheriff, even here.John grit his teeth. Stiles was right but damn it grated everything in him, especially the lawman side that was supremely offended this man was even still walking free.





	Show You How Bad I Can Be

**Author's Note:**

> After the last update a few people thought Peter out of character for what he did, and I agree. In the context of this he is out of character and deliberately so, but not for anything as trite as kudos or comments, but because that's human nature. It's been my experience that sometimes people do incredibly stupid things in the heat of a moment with no explainable reason for why. I know cause it's happened to me, more than once. As such, the previous chapter should be taken in such context. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy and continue nevertheless with this update. If not thanks for following thus far.

When the call came through Stiles was not prepared. He thought he would have been but he wasn’t. He soooo, wasn’t.

For a minute it knocked the wind clean out of his sails and left him winded. He took a second for his head to stop spinning before he could concentrate on what Derek was trying to say to him on the other end of the line.

“So he’s been arrested?” he asked weakly, wanting to wake up from this nightmare and find Peter next to him on the sofa, holding him tight.

“I’m sorry, Stiles, but that’s what Isaac said. He’s in a holding room downtown and Asher Maximilian is supposed to be going in to give a statement to begin the process of filing charges against him. If it had been just a fight, this would be easier, but the gun makes it a little more complicated.

“Laura’s on her way down with a team from the firm, but you need to prepare yourself, ok? We’re going to fight this Stiles, but the next 24 hours are going to turn into a circus once the media gets hold of this. Once he’s booked and charges are filed, there’s really no way to guarantee we can contain it. You may need to talk to your own team to manage any fall-out.”

Stiles couldn’t even concentrate on his career now. He hadn’t for a while. Peter came first. “Where are you?”

“Kira’s driving me down there.”

“Ok, I’m on my way. Tell him I’m coming.”

Stiles didn’t wait for a response. He hung up and turned to his dad. “Peter . . . Peter’s down at the station. They’re gonna book him.”

“Charges?” John asked through hard, clenched teeth.

“We don’t know yet, but I need you to take me down there, dad.”

“Let’s go.” He glanced briefly at Erica and Scott, not sure what to say to the two.

“I’ll head into the office; see what assistance I can give from there,” Erica pre-empted anything he could say, clearly pulling herself together.

“I’ll call Allison and the others. We’re going to fix this . . . somehow, Stiles. Do you want me to get in touch with Hayden and Finstock,” Scott offered.

Stiles watched as water puddled in his best friend’s eyes, as Scott became choked up with guilt about too many things. “Umm, not yet. Let’s see where this takes us first.”

Stiles hugged them both quickly, grabbed his wallet, phone and hurried out behind his dad.

++++++

“Talk to me,” John said as Stiles stared out one of the side back window of the hired car, uncharacteristically silent.

One of Boyd’s security team was at the wheel of John’s rental, racing them to the police station where Peter was being held. The man, Josh, had spoken to Boyd and learnt his boss had made a U-turn and was headed to the precinct himself.

“I feel like I could have avoided this. He did this because of me and now Max is going to make sure he pays for it,” Stiles said after a long pause.

“What do you mean you could have avoided it? Stiles, the man has been stalking you, but he’s been smart enough not to break any laws outright or even leave any evidence about what he’s been doing. There was nothing any of us could legally do . . . At times like this . . .”

Stiles reached up and yanked on his hair, needing the pain to force clarity into his increasingly muddled brain.

“I could have filed a restraining order for both of us,” Stiles tried again, but immediately realised that probably wouldn’t have worked. “I should have done . . . something,” he finished lamely as his father gave him heavy side-eye with a side order of raised brows.

“In everything he’s done so far – before the meeting he arranged through Finstock and since then, he’s had no real contact with you, Stiles.”

Rationally Stiles knew this. And besides, it was Peter that went to Max’s home, not the other way around. A restraining order on top of this recent incident could only have done more harm to Peter now in hind-sight.

“I just hate feeling like we didn’t do something, like we didn’t have to end up here,” Stiles threw out heavily, frustration bleeding through.

“We didn’t; but that’s not on you, son.” John turned fully in the seat to face Stiles, covering his hand briefly with his much older and work-roughened own. “Yes, Peter acted irrationally, and all things considered – the gun was a very unwise move – but he didn’t do anything any of us haven’t thought of in the last few days.”

Stiles raised brows at his father, chilled at the possibility that his father could be in Peter’s position right now.

“It’s not easy for me to see my son in this much pain and knowing part of it is my doing . . .”

“Dad . . .” Stiles began, but John cut him sharp.

“It’s true, I’ve accepted that. Knowing each of us was targeted in some way to get to you, that’s a hard thing for any one of us who loves you to bear. Imagine what Peter must have been going through after last night. Just keep that in mind son, and don’t judge him, or yourself, too harshly.” John had enough blame of his own to go around.

Stiles swallowed and returned his eyes to the road beyond. The driver was like a ghost at the wheel and for a moment as silence fell in the vehicle, Stiles was grateful for the quiet. He needed to pull himself together for when he saw Peter. He had to prepare himself to be what Peter needed right now; for what was coming at them both.

++++++

When the door opened and Laura walked in, Peter felt a surge of shame _. Hadn’t he already put his family through enough? How the hell did he end up here, after promising himself he’d do everything he could to be the centre Stiles needed emotionally?_

He’d failed, and it burned.

He still had no clue what had happened. He’d taken the gun that morning because he felt like things were escalating to the point that if he needed to protect himself he could. Stiles had a barrage of security at home. Nothing was getting to his fiancé, but Peter . . . Peter had felt exposed, and helpless.

After everything that had transpired in the last few days, he’d felt a little more steady having protection on him. After hearing Erica’s side of what happened that morning and issuing directions for Braeden to begin carrying out investigations into everyone at the firm, he’d found himself wondering if anyone in Laura’s life or Derek’s were paid stooges of Max’s too.

From there everything went awry. He’d just wanted to talk to the man, convince him that Stiles was taken, and happily so. That they were both happy and his attention was not wanted. In his mind he had a whole acerbic conversation worked out that would end with him firing the final verbal shot and stalking out leaving the man with no choice but to accept that Stiles would have no part of him; that he, Peter, was all he could ever want.

He’d just wanted it to stop. All of it. How naive was that? He was a man of the law. He knew better. He should have left the gun behind . . . maybe?

He saw Laura physically straighten her back before she embraced him. Two of his other senior partners shook his hand, but it was clear Laura was in charge.

They’d just got over Derek’s upheaval, and now this. She shouldn’t need to be this strong for the men in her family. He should have been the one offering comfort. He should be the one outlining how they would deal with Max.

“Here’s what we know so far . . .,” Laura began.

And from there his niece began to lay out just how badly he’d fucked up and how Hale & Hale were going to fight like hell to get him before a judge and hopefully released before night fall. Any alternatives simply didn’t bear thinking about, as much as he felt like he deserved it right now.

++++++

Boyd stood off to the side and watched as the man paraded his considerable presence through the bull pen of the precinct. There was a deathly silence in the room that was completely foreign to the normally robust, rowdy and chaotic police department.

Phones continued to ring and perps continued to stream in in handcuffs, but even the more vehement ones seemed to sense today was not the day to be belligerent. Half the officers in the room looked ready to commit bodily harm if not murder.

The officers that knew him were still smarting from Derek’s shooting. Those that didn’t were smarting from the attack on and injury to one of their own. Boyd had heard a few murmurs from officers wondering if the wealthy, enigmatic tycoon perhaps had something to do with the drugs trade they were still tracking, after arresting only three of the culprits. They were postulating that only Derek’s recent shooting could have caused the unflappable Peter Hale to go after someone with a weapon. The details would soon begin making their rounds through the office and he wondered how much would change then.

But now, in this atmosphere, only a fool wouldn’t heed such a warning and sometimes even the pettiest of criminals were anything but fools, when their necks were possibly at stake.  

Boyd folded him arms and just watched. He was waiting for John and Stiles to arrive. He’d still been too far away from the Maximilian mansion when it all had gone down and Peter had been arrested. Isaac had given him the heads-up and he’d diverted here instead.

He boiled and watched the man, who exuded a confidence he would personally love to remove with a single bullet, puff up his chest like he owned the place. It rubbed the cop in him the wrong way. But more than that, it rubbed the man in him that loved Erica in a deadly way.

At the least Peter would be charged with assault, but Boyd had a feeling these high-priced attorneys would be going for the jugular – nothing but attempted murder.

This was a fucked up situation however one looked at it.

++++++

Derek sat quietly nearby, holding onto Kira’s hand, but said nothing, knowing in this mood Boyd was a keg waiting to go off. He’d seen it happen before . . . once, and it took four men at the time to subdue the tank that was Detective Vernon Boyd riled.

His former colleague now looked times more dangerous than at any time he’d ever seen before in his eight years in the department.

++++++

Max preened.

Given the tension in the air it would have been stretching it a bit to belt out the laughter that had been stifling him from the time he walked through the doors, but he was enjoying the hell out of this. The satisfaction was indescribable.

His main attorney had picked him up from the house; the other two were waiting at the precinct when he got here – as they should have been. They knew better than to disappoint.

Stiles’ bodyguard standing stoic behind some ways behind them, had probably arrived while he was giving his statement. Now, Max’s lawyers were talking with Detective Lahey and a few others, but he was just biding his time. His target would no doubt show up, and he needed to be present. His team knew to stall for time.

Those watching the penthouse had reported that father and son were on their way. All he had to do was wait. And if in that time he managed to piss off a couple cops and one irate looking bodyguard – all in a day’s satisfaction.

++++++

Erica sent another junior scampering.

She’d felt the change in the office the moment she stepped through the door. Saw the shock and then fear on the face of the two juniors at the water cooler who went scampering at the crook of her well-plucked brow.

She’d heard the first murmur of a rumour when she’d passed the junior stalls on her way to her office. She’d balled a fist and resisted the urge to scare a few more. The two from the front office would no doubt spread the word.

But after handling half-a-dozen calls to cancel Peter’s appointments for the day, all while not giving away the specifics of why she couldn’t immediately reschedule, she’d needed a cup of strong coffee.

She’d heard the second rumour the moment she pushed open the door to the break room.

“I heard he shot someone. I’m telling you, this firm is going to crumble. After that questioning by that Braeden woman this morning – and we all know it really was an interrogation in disguise – but I’m exploring my options,” the guy said, oblivious to the panicked look in his co-gossipers’ eyes.

The man’s back was to the door, but the others, the others saw her coming and were trying to figure out a way out of the room before the inevitable happened.

“Why wait?” she said, deceptively quiet.

The young man spun around. Hank? Hector? Harvey? His name was something beginning with H, and normally Erica was on top of things like that, but today was anything but normal.

Hank, Hector or Harvey stared, almost reeking of terror. He swallowed once and his mouth dropped open. He tried to swallow again as his “friends” took imperceptible steps back, hoping to escape this brewing storm or at least make themselves less viable targets. If there’s one thing they all knew it was that you didn’t fuck with Erica. The second thing they knew was that you didn’t fuck with, around or about Peter for Erica to find out.

She wasn’t nicknamed _Queen Caesar_ by some for no reason. Erica always claimed her pound of flesh with enough blood to go around.

“I . . . I  . . . I didn’t mean . . .”

“Don’t care. Out. Now.” She didn’t raise her voice and pretty much whispered it, but she might have well screamed it down the corridors with a machete in hand for the speed with which the room cleared.

She exhaled shakily and went to fix the mug with triple the punch she needed. Word would spread that Erica was not pleased, and the rumours would cease. _For now._

++++++

Stiles burst in through the doors of the precinct, already looking for any familiar faces. Over the past weeks since Derek’s shooting he’d got to know many of his soon-to-be nephew-in-law’s colleagues.

The first person he laid eyes on was a murderous looking Boyd, whose eyes were trained on the centre of the bull pen and the huge man standing there, and then Derek himself sitting nearby, hands twitching as if he wished he had a weapon in them, as Kira visibly tried to calm him.

Stiles could relate. He would love nothing better than to walk into the centre of this station and end this all with a bullet to Asher Maximilian’s skull.

The demon in question turned just then and their eyes met. They were predatory, possessive. Stiles felt his heart clench and he swallowed as a shiver worked its way up his spine. He felt warmth at his back and his father laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. It allowed him to exhale.

“Laura’s still in with him,” Derek told Stiles and John.

Stiles shifted his gaze to Derek, then back to Max. He was moving and his dad was calling his name, but Stiles had to do this. Maybe it was pass time.

++++++

“Can I talk to you?” Stiles was direct.

His dad placed a restraining hand on his arm.

“Hello, John, Stiles. Sorry to be meeting again under these circumstances.” Max returned.

“You fucking piece of shit. If I . . .”

“Dad!” Stiles chastened. “Let me handle this please.” He turned to look at his father. “You’re still a sheriff, even here.

John grit his teeth. Stiles was right but damn it grated everything in him, especially the lawman side that was supremely offended this man was even still walking free.

“I think I can spare a moment. Richard, I’ll be back in a moment,” Max stood from where he’d been sitting, indicating to his attorney.

“Mr. Maximilian, I would advise against . . .” The lawyer never got to finish what he was about to say. At one look from Max he zipped his lips closed and dropped his gaze.

Max continued as if there had never been an interruption. “Mind if I use that room over there, Detective?” he asked Isaac, who looked at Stiles and frowned.

“Please, Isaac,” Stiles pled as the officer hesitated. “I just need a minute.”

“Ok, but you’re not going alone.”

“Damn bet he isn’t,” John grumbled.

Stiles glanced at his father and knew there was no way the man would allow him anywhere near the billionaire by himself.

++++++

While he would have loved to get Stiles alone, at this point it really didn’t make a difference.

“What will it take for you to drop the charges against Peter?” Stiles asked as soon as the doors to the interrogation room swung close.

“Stiles,” the sheriff hissed.

But Max smiled at the younger man that was meant to be his; a slick tilt of his lips as he looked at him and realised what he wanted was within his grasp. He loved that Stiles got right down to business. Everything he’d learnt about Stiles told him this would be his approach. He was surprised he hadn’t come to him before now.

“That’s a loaded question right there, Stiles. Are you sure you really want to know?”

“Just tell me. I would think this is the moment you’ve been waiting for, isn’t it?” Stiles said impatiently.

“Have dinner with me and I’ll tell you. Just you. Now fiancé, no bodyguard, no . . . daddy . . .”

Stiles frowned at him, a look of suspicious drawing his face tight. “Dinner?” he said slowly. “You’ll drop the charges for dinner . . . with me?”

“Stiles. NO!” John warned.

The father seemed like he’d had enough of standing by quietly.

“Careful, John. This is Stiles’ decision to make, I believe.” His voice was hard as he addressed the man he’d sought out to befriend not so long ago. He turned back to Stiles. “What will it be, because this offer has a definite life cycle,” he finished.

“You stay the fuck away from my son,” John rushed forward, not able to stand it anymore. “You lay a hand on him and I’ll kill you!”

Stiles stepped quickly in front of his dad, cutting off what was likely to have been another assault.

“John, I won’t warn you again. I walk out that door everything is off the table and I promise you by the time I’m done, Peter Hale will be looking at a minimum of 25 years for that weapon and his attempted assault . . . or is it murder.” Stiles inhaled sharply. Max glanced at him intensely. “Your choice.”

“Ok. I’ll do it.”

“Son, please.”

Max smiled. Now that was real fear in John’s voice. The former ranger was actually afraid now, and he was not a man easily scared, Max knew. They’d once gone hunting together. John was a crack shot.

Max looked at Stiles, considered for a minute, then he met John’s eyes as he said, “I will have someone get in touch with you, Stiles, with the arrangements.”

He could almost hear John grinding his teeth together as he passed him to exit the room. He didn’t pause, didn’t look back.

He was feeling accomplished.

++++++

“What have you done?” John felt weary – both in spirit and body. This deal would not be good for anyone but Asher Maximilian, and he’d been powerless to do anything to stop it.

“I did what I had to.” But Stiles was twisting his hands together, uncertainty written clear as day on a face that was usually thoroughly composed.

“I can’t let you do this, Stiles. I don’t care what that man says.”

“Well it’s not up to you, dad, and I’m not asking permission.”

Stiles walked out the doors.

John dropped into the nearest chair. He sat still for a long while.

++++++

Boyd watched them go in and about 12 minutes later he watched as Max walked out, looking even more satisfied with himself than he had before.

Whatever had gone down in there, Asher Maximilian had gotten what he was after.

Shortly after, Stiles followed, looking like he was going to be ill.

A door not too far off opened and Laura walked out, just as Max pulled his attorney aside for a few quick words.

He saw the moment her eyes landed on Stiles. She walked quickly to him and embraced him, but Max’s chief lawyer signalled to her.

She frowned but went over, with her own two partners in tow. There was a quick huddle, Laura gesticulating with a frown on her face. Then her gaze flew to Stiles and her mouth dropped open.

Stiles’ head fell as the lawyer held out a hand to shake Laura’s. She tightened her jaw, still looking at Stiles. He whispered something to her and she commented to the lawyer before turning away leaving the man with his hand still extended.

++++++

Little more than ten minutes later, Peter was walking out of the room he’d been held in for the last couple hours.

When Laura had come back in to tell him they were dropping the assault charges and that Maximilian was now claiming the “supposed assault” had simply been a misunderstanding, and a disagreement run amok, Peter’s blood had run cold – especially after she qualified it by saying Stiles was in the precinct.

Normally, charges like these wouldn’t simply be dismissed, but no one here wanted to proceed to prosecute Peter Hale, certainly not the DA who’d arrived and been pulled into the Captain’s office, with Isaac following after receiving a phone call.

Peter was sure that his fiancé was wrapped up in this “change of heart” somehow and that made him sweat a little.

 Stiles jumped up from where he had been sitting and rushed to embrace him.

“Are you ok?” Stiles asked burying himself in Peter’s arms.

“I’m ok. They say the charges are being dropped . . . What did you do?” Peter tilted his chin up so he could look Stiles in the eyes.

When Stiles dropped his gaze to the region of Peter’s chest anyhow, he knew that something had happened. He turned wide eyes to a silently brooding Boyd and John, who looked visibly upset.

For sure something had happened.

“I did what I had to,” Stiles whispered in a near broken voice.

“And that would be what?” Peter tried not to let fear bleed into his voice; fear and anger.

“Can we talk about this when we are not in the middle of the police station? Please?”

Peter watched as Stiles swallowed. Regardless of where this conversation took place, Peter was sure whatever the reason for his release he was going to hit the roof about the terms that Max had set. There was no way the man would not use this situation to his advantage.

The look of uncertainty on Stiles face left him a little worried about just what the terms of his release had been.

Laura came over to have a quick word with Peter as the DA left the office, glancing briefly at the Hales and Stilinskis, then exiting the station.

++++++

Stiles bit his lips until they ached. The tension was more than he felt he could bear and Peter was angry. He would be livid later. Stiles just hoped their relationship stood up to the test when he told Peter he was about to have a private, possibly, forcibly intimate dinner with the man.

He shivered as he exhaled, insides quivering with anxiety.

Peter held his gaze for a moment, forehead creased severely before he leaned forward and deliberately kissed Stiles. It was soft, intimate and spoke of Peter’s need for him, and helped to settle Stiles just a bit.

If he was also especially aware that Max was standing nearby having to watch Peter stake his claim, well that was Stiles’ little victory in the face of what was to come. The man could force Stiles to meet him, eat with him, talk to him – because Stiles would do just about anything for Peter – but he would force Max to acknowledge that at the end, it was Peter Hale that Stiles wanted, and only Peter Hale.

This felt viciously petty as he kissed him back with feeling, but he would take that as a victory too.

++++++

Max watched the two with narrowed eyes but did not allow any other expression to mark his face. The public display raked his nerves, but that was ok. He would have Stiles soon – very soon. And it would put that prissy lawyer in his place, even more than sending him to prison would.

When he was done, when Stiles finally left Peter – and he would – the attorney would know Max and won and that was a heady thing to look forward to; so much better than this could have been.

He watched as Stiles’ eyes connected with his over Peter’s shoulder and his expression then had only one message. The widening of Stiles’ eyes said it was well received.

Max could leave now. He had a dinner to plan.

++++++

Stiles knew what that look meant. It was a very blatant “remember you owe me”, and he didn’t like it one bit. So he melted into his fiancé when Peter pulled him into his arms as they left the station. Boyd once again serving as sentry, his father and Derek not far behind, holding onto Kira’s hand and looking equally as solemn.

“I don’t like this,” Peter muttered into Stiles’ neck and the attorney inhaled the smell of him again as if committing it to memory.

The first camera went off and then the rest of the media catapulted into action, rushing forward with a barrage of questions neither Stiles nor Peter intended to answer. _How the hell had the news got out?_ Stiles wondered if this was Max’s doing.

Laura and her team stepped forward and while some cameras remained trained on their procession to the jeep his dad had driven him over in, a few swung to catch the agreed to statement Laura would release.

++++++

“You what?!” Peter immediately hit the roof, just as Stiles predicted he would have.

“It’s not a big deal . . .,” Stiles began, despite knowing he didn’t have a foot to stand on where this was concerned.

“The fuck it isn’t!” Peter ran a harried hand across his tired face, raking his hair back from his forehead. “Stiles, the man has given you nightmares for days. He stalked you for the last four years and we still can’t prove it enough to file charges against him. How am I supposed to feel about this? How am I supposed to feel about you giving yourself over to this demand in order to get me out of prison? Do you have any idea how much it hurts that I can’t protect you, no matter what I do?”

Stiles swallowed his guilt. “What was the alternative, Peter? You went to him with a fucking gun. What did you think the outcome of that was going to be? Did you even think it through?”

That feeling of disconcertion he’d had ever since he lost his temper in Max’s mansion returned, and he finally allowed his legs to give way beneath him and sunk down onto the sofa. He didn’t want to argue. He just wanted to hold Stiles and not let go.

John, and Boyd had made themselves scarce once they got back to Peter’s penthouse, and Scott had followed to get out of the way. Derek and Kira had gone back to Laura’s apartment and Laura to the office to strategise in case Maximilian’s people did not hold up to their end of things.

The press had departed with a vastly different story to what they had been expecting and for that Peter was only partially grateful. But the fact still remained – they were once again back in the spotlight because of him.

“I’m just trying to protect you,” he said, feeling defeated in a way he had been trying not to acknowledge since the day before.

Stiles dropped down next to him and reached for his hand. “And I’m trying to protect you.” He clasped Peter’s hand in his. “I’d do anything for you, Peter; just as I know you’d do the same, and you did, today.

“Maybe we haven’t handled this as well as we should have. I’ve been a complete mess, falling apart and expecting everyone else around me to cope when I couldn’t. So that may be part of why today you acted like a crazy person and not like the man I love. This is not you. This is not us. We’re the ones who tell people to go fuck themselves when they try to tell us what and how we should be; what we are to each other. We have been together for two years now, and I plan to spend the next 50 or so growing old next to you.

“The only way we get there is to get through this moment. And you’re right, it isn’t fair of me to ask you to sit by while this man tries whatever it is he thinks he’s going to achieve with this dinner. But, Peter, I’m tired of feeling helpless. I’m tired of the guilt in dad’s eyes and in his voice because he’s a cop and he believes he should be protecting us. Of our friends tip-toeing around us because they think they somehow put me, us, in this position. And I can’t watch you near self-destruct on my behalf like you almost did today.

“The way you are accustomed to fighting is with the law. But the problem is, this isn’t something any of us have had to deal with before. This does not mean we give up or give in to him. He wants to defeat us; to break us – you and me. I won’t give him the fucking satisfaction.” Stiles said, determination returning to his voice.

“Ok, but how can we use this dinner without putting you in danger? How can we use it to get the law on our sides?”

“I don’t know yet, but we have to fight this bastard. He thinks he has me right where he wants me, wants us. Let’s prove him wrong. But I won’t do this without you. I can’t. You’re my life, Peter. I need you.”

Peter let the words run through his mind; felt them settle in his chest and then his stomach; allowed his fiancé and the love of his life to calm and clear his mind.

“Ok. Ok.”

Stiles smiled shakily. They were getting somewhere.

“Have I told you yet today how much I wholly and absolutely love you?” Peter asked him quietly.

Stiles’ face split into a sure grin. “No, but it sure does sound nice in that tone of voice . . . I love you too, babe.”

“How the hell did I get this lucky?”

“Well, if I remember correctly, I was riding along minding my own business and this asshole of a hotshot attorney . . .”

Stiles’ laugh was muffled by Peter’s mouth. When they came up for air, Peter whispered, “Let’s do this, but only if we can guarantee you won’t get hurt. What’s the plan?”

 “Dad! Boyd! Scott! We need you guys.”

Boyd was the first into the room, assessing for threats, followed by John and Scott.

“What is it son?”

“Call Derek, Laura and the others. We’re not going to let this son of a bitch destroy this family, destroy what we’ve been building. We are going to fight him, but on our terms. And dad, you’re going to be our chief strategist. We have to find a way to turn the tables on this psychopath.”

Scott looked uncertain, but less guilty than before. Life and light shined in John’s eyes and Boyd straightened.

_Some action, finally._

**Author's Note:**

> So I deliberately did not post this until I could get the next update ready to post quickly thereafter. So I’ll take a day to edit then post the penultimate chapter. I usually write my chapters in one sitting but classes have started hectic, so sorry if this feels disjointed. Leave me your thoughts.


End file.
